


Ghost Rider: Rebirth

by Papa



Category: Ghost Rider (2007), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All praise young Nic Cage, Eventual pairing including smut, F/M, Hispanic author struggles, My first story featuring my OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papa/pseuds/Papa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Blaze really has no control over his life any more. After truly becoming the Rider, he had to leave Roxanne and everything else he loved. Now that he's been given a new mission, to defeat the rebirth of Oleum, the god of disasters and death, he has to make sure he doesn't fail. Even if that means dragging along a twenty-something mechanic who seems to be as deep in this mess as he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Girl Is On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!   
> As you may tell this is going to be my very first story with a plot. There'll be multiple chapters, each named after a song fit enough for a Rider, lots of actions, and maybe even a teeny bit of romance. I've always had a deep interest in Ghost Rider and I was pretty sad when I heard that there would no longer be any movies featuring him. So, after much deliberation, I decided why not just write my own version?   
> We all know that the first movie was...a little hokier than we'd have liked, but that doesn't mean it wasn't good! Anyway, this story will take place during the first movie and maybe hopefully a little bit during the second one (which was my personal favorite of the duo). Hope you all enjoy!

__**"Forgetfulness of your real nature is true death;**  
 **remembrance of its rebirth."**  
 **-Ramana Maharshi**

-

  
_Oil, there was nothing but thick black oil. Slimy and warm, working its way up her arms and torso. The woman couldn't breathe, not even if she wanted to, the slick liquid had already migrated its way into her mouth and down her throat. She gagged, tears slipping down her dirtied cheeks, coughing up as much of the goo as she could. Dear merciful god...if there even was one...please don't let-_  
She coughed once again, gasping for as much air as she could. The inky liquid had moved up to her eyes now...she had only so much time before-  
  
 **BEEP. BEEP. BEEP**  
  
Nikki O'Neil gasped, shooting up into a sitting position as she held onto her chest; heart beating faster than it ever should. Her short hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, dark eyes wide as she looked everywhere at once. Her breathing was fast, turning to steam as it hit the cool air. She had that dream again...the one with the oil, or was it just really dark blood? No, it had to be oil. It  _had_ to be. She basically worked with the stuff everyday. Nikki was the daughter of a pretty interesting man named Frank O'Neill, a somewhat famous mechanic who enjoyed fixing cars, racing dirt bikes, and painting. That's right - painting. The fifty-something year old man enjoyed spending his free time painting random portraits of whatever he could find in the house, or even the shop. Much of the time he'd use extra oil that had leaked out onto the concrete floor of the auto-part store.   
  
"Nikki," He'd say, "Always use what you can to excel in your talents. Never not use your talents."  
  
To which Nikki would reply with, "I'd rather not use oil to paint peoples' faces."  
  
She sighed heavily, running her fingers through her tousled black hair. She had quite a lot to do today, a customer had brought in a nearly unrecognizable Volkswagen Beetle the night before. The person was practically in hysterics as they were begging her to fix it on the spot. Unfortunately, Nikki was just closing up when they had arrived but she promised she'd work on it first thing in the morning.   
  
She stood from her creaky, small bed and stretched out her limbs. She walked across the small room and into the even smaller bathroom, picking up her hairbrush as if it were on instinct. She brushed through her short hair, smoothing it back before picking up her red and white spotted bandanna and skillfully wrapping it around her head. She then picked up her toothbrush and started on brushing her teeth. This was her routine. Always has been. She'd get up, get cleaned, get dressed, then start working on whatever piece of machine was waiting for her in the garage.  
  
Before, when her father wasn't in jail and was at a healthy stage of life, Nikki would have been more unhappy than excited to start working. When she was younger, she had thought that working as a grease monkey was the worst job in the world. Who would ever want to work with nasty, sticky engines that would sputter and groan at every touch? Not Nikki. She was much, much more interested in racing. The little girl would often run around the shop, wearing an over-sized helmet just like 'the racing guys' did. Her mother would always chide after her, tell her to slow down before she broke something or herself. But her father encouraged her behavior, exclaiming that it was always important to follow one's dreams.  
  
Dreams.  
  
There was that word again. Those damn dreams had been reoccurring lately. The oil and grease. At first Nikki thought it was because she would stay up too late working, but after a few weeks of the exact same scene...she began to fear for her sanity. She sighed as she finished up her morning ritual, picking up her trusty wrench. The silver piece of metal was always within an arms reach, she called it her lucky wrench, or Lucky for short. It was a gift to her for her eighth birthday. Most little girls would have wanted a Barbie or even a scooter, but she wanted a wrench. Her father had always said they were a mechanics best friend. Nikki would often just hold Lucky, holding the metal tool against her chest, as a reminder that her father was really gone.   
  
She wasn't completely sure of why he was in jail. Word got around that he had gotten caught up in the mob, actually going out and killing people who would mess with bikes or cars. At first Nikki didn't want to believe it, she wanted to believe that all the money her father was bringing home was from rich clients. Not blood money given to him by his boss. She guessed it got to the point where he would just go out to bash in peoples' heads in for fun, they didn't even have to have messed with any sort of machinery. If they were breathing, then Frank O'Neill would make sure they never would again.   
  
Shaking aside the thought of her father snapping someones neck, Nikki switched on the radio as she headed over to the busted up Volkswagen.   
  
"Good morning, San Antonio!" The usual radio announcer, Buzz Nightly, practically shouted into the radio, "It's going to be a wonderful, yet burnin', ninety-degrees today! So let's start off the morning with something that might do us all a little good and one of my personal favorites."  
  
And just like that the radio blasting  _Highway To Hell_ by AC/DC. Nikki smirked to herself as she popped open the hood of the Beetle, this song was not only one of her favorites, but it sort of was her theme song. She couldn't resist dancing slightly to the sound of the music. She bit her lip, focusing on not trying to pop anything without meaning to. This engine was so nasty and banged up, she was surprised it even ran. She turned one of the coils ever so slightly, immediately being met with a warm, liquid substance that sprayed out all over her face and shoulders. She coughed, backing up and nearly hitting her head on the hood of the Beetle.   
  
"God dammit!" She cursed, wiping the oil from her eyes and swatting her hand away, attempting to get rid of it, "Just brilliant..."  
  
She mumbled a string of cusses as she heard the front door open, looking over and sighing heavily. A bearded man walked in. He was sort of on the big side with auburn hair that hadn't looked like it was brushed recently, torn jeans, and a plaid shirt. In all reality, the man looked pretty familiar.   
  
"Welcome to O'Neill Auto Parts," Nikki greeted with a hint of distaste, "My name's Nikki, how can I help you?"  
  
The man raised an eyebrow as he studied the oil covered woman, in no way did she look promising. Maybe to someone else he knew, but not to him personally.   
  
"Uh, yes," He cleared his throat as he walked over, "I'm here to set up an appointment to fix up a bike? Preferably a stunt bike."  
  
"Okay...?" Nikki went over to her counter, picking up a rag as she began to wipe off her face and hands. She was kicking herself for not having put on her blue uniform earlier, "I don't really make appointments-"  
  
"See, there's the thing," The man, Mack, interrupted her and rushed over, "I need to have this particular bike fixed at some point when you aren't busy. It's really, really important. The person who owns it is really, really important. So if you wouldn't mind-"  
  
It was Nikki's turn to cut the man off, "Alright! Alright...just calm down, sir..." She put down her now dirtied rag and picked up a notebook and pen, "On what day would you like this to be done?"  
  
"Whenever you can," He replied.  
  
"Alright...in a few months then," She got ready to write it down, only to have Mack step forward once again.  
  
"A few months?! Are you serious?"  
  
"Hey, you said whenever I could," Nikki frowned, "But fine...a few days..."  
  
Mack gave a small exhale of breath, obviously much more happier with this choice than the last. He went over to one of the chairs by the door and sat down, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. Nikki kept glancing at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  
  
"Is there something else?" She asked.  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me who the bike belongs to?" Mack replied with a question, causing Nikki to blink.  
  
"Is it really that important?" She asked, going over and switching on the television so the man could have some entertainment as she worked. It was obvious he wasn't going to move any time soon, "Sorry if you don't like this channel, but the remote is on the table next to you."  
  
"It's fine," Mack said, staring up at the moving screen, "So you a fan of stunt racing?"   
  
"Oh yeah," Nikki chuckled, "I'd kill to be out on one of those bikes. It looks amazing. I remember when this one guy did that bare ass 360 triple back flip, that was so funny..."  
  
"Mm hm," Mack nodded, half paying attention, half nodding off. He already felt exhausted and this girl's talk about bikes and the little pain in the ass he had to pretty much take care of. Speaking of which...he had better be at home instead of some bar.   
  
"When do you think you'll be bringing in the bike?" Nikki asked as she pulled down the hood of the Beetle. She looked over to the sitting down, surprised to see that he had fallen asleep. She snorted and went over to the television to turn it off. She paused, looking at the screen with interest. Standing on a bright blue and red platform a few hundred feet off the ground was none other than the best trick biker out there, Johnny Blaze. 


	2. Uprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having forgotten to bring the busted bike, Mack asks Johnny to bring it in to the mechanics instead while he goes to talk with a company about some new coverage. Meanwhile, Nikki is left at the sidelines to revel in the fact that she may or may not be getting unexpected company.

**"Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us  
but we can't strike them all by ourselves."  
-Laura Esquivel**

  
_-_   
  


It had been three days since Johnny had last wiped out. He had already explained to Mack that it was a simple mistake, he had let his mind wander to things that weren't important. Everyone, including his crew, had been telling him how he should have been dead, bit the dust, hit the big one. But he hadn't, he was just fine. He had told everyone that he wouldn't mess up again and that they should just calm down. 

The large studio style apartment of his had a distinct sugary smell, no doubt from the fact that he had accidentally left some jelly beans on one of the large windowsill. He had completely forgotten about that...how long had it been since he was last home? A few days? A couple weeks? He couldn't remember, it didn't matter all that much. 

He sat down in his brown leather chair, head leaning back against the cushions. He felt exhausted, surprising since he didn't do much other than sleep when he wasn't preforming. His eyes focused on the ceiling before slowly looking back to the blank screen of the television. Part of him wanted nothing more than to switch it on and spend the rest of the night watching cartoons, the other half screaming out for sleep. After much debating he decided to do neither, sighing and standing up. He had to see how Mack was doing any way. 

The man had decided to take the crashed bike to a professional instead of doing it himself like he always did. At first Johnny was skeptical of this, Mack never let anyone besides himself and John to touch the bikes. The bike wasn't even that badly damaged! Just a busted axle, the entire front was shattered, the wheel had broken off...okay, it was pretty bad now that Johnny thought about it. 

He scooped up his cell phone off the counter in his kitchen, holding it between his ear and shoulder as he reached under the counter and taking out a bottle full of jelly beans. As the phone continued to dial, he poured some of the red and yellow candies into a clear martini glass, putting the bottle away again. 

"Hello?" Mack said on the other side, he sounded groggy...as if he had just woken up. 

"Hey, Mack," Johnny greeted, picking up his jelly bean martini and leaning against the counter, "You at the mechanics place yet?" 

"What...? Oh, yeah, yeah," Mack yawned on the other end, rubbing his eyes. He hated falling asleep in public places like this, even if it were just him and the lady mechanic. 

"So? Are they going to fix the bike?" Johnny asked, shooting back some of the jelly beans. 

"Uh, about that..." Mack cleared his throat, "I forgot the bike...I fell asleep."

"Are you serious?" Johnny raised an eyebrow as he registered Mack's confession, "You fell asleep?"

"Yes," Mack groaned, "Now don't give me that, you fall asleep more times than I can count. Anyway, I need you to come over and drop the bike off."

"What?" Johnny frowned, "Why can't you just come back and grab it?"

"Because I have business to do, I need to go talk with some contractors about getting you a gig in Houston, so quit whining."

"Fine...but don't think I'll be happy about it."

"You never are."

Johnny grumbled and hung up the phone, finishing up the rest of his jelly beans and heading back to the elevator. Maybe he  _should_ get a lock for this thing like Mack always says.

   
-

  


  
Mack snapped his phone shut, sliding it into the pocket of his tight fitting jeans. The slightly overweight man gave a small string of curses as he stood up from his seat in the garage. He looked around before his gaze settled on the television, a retelling of Johnny's accident in Phoenix playing. He had cussed the hell out of that kid, wanting him to get the picture that he had to up his game in the next performance. 

"Are you up?" 

"What?" Mack turned and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the mechanic of the garage, oil smears on her face.

The woman gave a small sigh, most likely a laugh under her breath, and jutted a thumb towards outside, "It's late and I've already closed up, are you going to be dropping off that bike any time soon?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Mack rubbed the bridge of his nose as he started to head to the door, "I have someone coming by to drop it off...he'll no doubt be stupid and get lost... When do you close?"

"Depends, what day is it?" Nikki replied, having gone to the television and switching it off. 

Mack gave her a perturbed look, "Wednesday."

"Then I close at ten," The mechanic looked at him over her shoulder, "Hope your buddy doesn't get lost, it's already eight."

Mack nodded and waved a hand before leaving through the front door of the garage. It was a warm night and Mack wanted nothing more than to just get going to that business meeting. He wasn't at all a big fan of this particular company, but they needed some more publicity. He grumbled a bit before hoisting himself into his truck, putting the keys into the ignition and driving off. 

Nikki watched as the weird man drove away through the large front windows of the shop. She tossed the oil covered rag that she had been using to wipe off her face onto the counter before sitting down heavily on one of the ugly orange chairs by the door. The radio had been playing some song,  _Shake It Out_ by Florence and the Machine, and Nikki had to laugh at the irony of the song. It seemed to suit this particular mood she was in. 

She usually got this way around this time. Cars speeding past her garage, the lights flickering, flies buzzing around the big windows, even oil dripping down onto the concrete from the old cars towards the back. Maybe she should get some help...then again, she wouldn't be able to pay any employees, her business was low on money. Another reason why this particular job might help her. 

That is...if Rick and his friends didn't stop by. 

Rick Montoya and his posse were about the ugliest, filthiest, and deadliest group of gangsters in all of San Antonio, working under some business man by the name of Kingpin. Who he was - not even the cops knew, but then again, he liked to keep himself hidden. Montoya and his gang would often stop by small businesses, including Nikki's garage, and demand for payment. What for that is? Why for keeping these small businesses and store owners safe of course! 

Nikki didn't dare to question the men when they raided her shop, she knew them all too well. This was the particular gang her father just happened to be with during his little 'phase'. Montoya had made it his own personal pleasure to make Nikki's life awful, often taking money from her own personal stash and even further damaging the cars in the garage, with the help of his goons of course. So many times did Nikki want to just slam her wrench into his ugly mug, but she didn't want to have to pay the price afterwards. She had seen how that went down far too many times. 

Her hands ran through her short, dark brown hair, a thin layer of sweat having formed on her tanned skin. She didn't mind the heat of the shop, rather she enjoyed it. Then again it was almost always hot here. Hell, it w _as_ Texas. Maybe she should invest in an air conditioner...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door of the garage opening up. She stood up from her seat and adjusted the red bandanna around her head, thankful it was helping out by soaking up some of the sweat on her forehead. She started to head out to the garage portion of the shop only to hear a loud clanging; most likely a tin full of screwdrivers and wrenches falling over. 

"Shit..." Someone cursed and the sound of metal scraping, whoever it was had probably tried to clean up the mess. Thank god for that, there were too many times to count when customers had knocked things over and never picked them up, "Uh, hello?" 

"Coming!" Nikki called out a reply before heading into the garage, she stopped in her steps upon seeing her customer, " _Dios mío..._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this being a relatively short chapter, the next one will be longer! I promise!


	3. Burnin' Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny officially meets the garage's mechanic, Nikki.

 

 

  
**"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances:**   
**if there is any reaction, both are transformed."**

**Carl Jung**

-

 

Honestly, Johnny didn't want to be in that garage at all. He just wanted to stay home and get some rest, watch cartoons, and eat his jelly beans. But here he was: knocking over cans full of oily, grimy tools. Of course he had begun to try to clean up the mess, getting more of the grime on his hands than he'd have liked, but he seemed to be making it worse. 

"Shit..." He cursed under his breath, hoping that the mechanic of this...fine establishment...wouldn't mind that he had made a complete ass of himself. Was today just an off day for him? "Uh, hello?"

"Coming!" A surprisingly feminine voice called from some room in the far back, no doubt the waiting room or main office of the garage. This brought a little confusion onto Johnny, did the mechanic have an assistant? A wife? A daughter maybe? He was sort of hoping for the latter. 

He blinked in slight surprise once the owner of the voice came into view. She was pretty short compared to him with short black hair and tanned skin, no doubt she was Hispanic or at least had Spanish roots. She wore a blue mechanics onsie, seemingly a little big on her, and a red bandanna with white polka dots around her head to keep her bangs out of her face. Her dark brown eyes were intelligent, almost as bright as the smile she was giving him. 

"How can I help you?" The woman asked, a light accent peppering her words.

"Uh..." Johnny had to clear his throat to regain his composure, focusing his attention on her black combat boots...or maybe they were also covered in oil, "I'm here to bring in a-"

"Oh my god!" 

The man snapped his head up to look at her, too shocked to realize that he had been cut off, "What-"

"You!" The woman pointed at him, her smile having to grown bigger, "You're Johnny Blaze!"

Johnny felt his heart constrict slightly, she knew him? Well, that wasn't too surprising since he was pretty well known all over the Southern part of the U.S. 

"Yeah," Johnny gave a reply, a charming smirk adorning his features, "Nice to meet you, miss..."

"Oh, Nikki, Nikki O'Neill," The woman responded.

"Miss O'Neill," Johnny chuckled, "I'm guessing you're a fan of stunt performances?"

"Very much so," The mechanic said in a happy tone, there was no doubt she was practically shaking in her boots from excitement, "I see you all the time on the television."

She looked back to a television in the corner of the room, probably to give waiting customers some sort of entertainment as they waited for their vehicle to be fixed or tuned up. Johnny couldn't help notice other sorts of things adorning the walls of the garage; antique posters of old cars framed in elegant black hangers, shiny silver auto parts engraved with words in Spanish, and even a few ordinary tools that were just polished to the point that they were sparkling. 

"You're so awesome!" She gushed, nearly bouncing from excitement as she looked back at Johnny. 

"Thanks," Johnny smirked, used to being fawned over by many fans, "So...was a friend of mine here recently? His name's Mack."

"Oh yeah," Nikki gave a small laugh, waving a hand, "He left about a half hour ago, he said he forgot the bike he wanted to bring in so he said a friend would drop it off. Who knew it was going to be Johnny Blaze, right?"

Johnny couldn't help but chuckle in reply, he was going to chew Mack out later. Sure he loved his fans, then again who wouldn't love the attention of thousands of strangers? But it did get awkward after a while. The regular questions of how he felt when riding or how he came to be so famous swirled in his head. He was begging every deity he could think of that this woman wouldn't ask him any questions. 

"So how are you doing?"

Damn. Wait, what did she ask?

"Pardon?" He asked, looking at her with an almost shocked expression.

"How are you?" Nikki repeated, taking out a notepad from one of her pockets on her mechanic onsie.

"Er, good," Johnny blinked, looking away slightly. This was new...it was about this time that people would be begging for his autograph or a picture, "Yourself?"

She shrugged, "I can't complain. I'm going to need to see the bike though."

Right. The bike. Johnny nodded and turned back to the front door, heading outside. Nikki followed after him, no doubt waiting for the perfect opportunity to chat his ear off with questions. Although...they never came. 

"Here it is," Johnny sighed as he walked to the back of Mack's truck. He had sort of 'borrowed' the black four-door since he couldn't exactly ride the busted bike to the garage. He opened the door to the truck bed and hopped up, the truck dipping slightly, "Did you see how it crashed?"

Nikki looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the heavy Texas sun, "Yeah, Jesus almighty, me and a few guys that were in the garage thought you were going to die."

Johnny snorted involuntarily before shaking his head, picking up a metal board by the bike and sliding down to the ground; the metal ramp was useful in situations like this. 

"So did everyone else," Johnny replied and started to push the bike down the ramp, "I kept getting asked if I was hurt or sore or internally bleeding. Guess not enough people realize that this sort of thing happens all the time."

"I guess..." Nikki raised an eyebrow as the man flipped the kickstand up on the bike and leaned it over, "Your head bent-"

"Can we switch topics?" He asked suddenly, looking to her and squinting. The light made it sort of hard to look at her, but he was trying his best not to just walk away. 

"Right, sorry," She apologized and kneeled down by the bike, looking over the obvious damages before looking further. 

Johnny watched, a frown on his face. He was wishing that he had waited to get this bike fixed up by Mack. Something about this girl was offsetting and he honestly was getting the chills from being around her. Nikki had begun muttering in Spanish now, jotting down things in her notebook every now and then. It was when she stood up from her inspection that Johnny took a step back. 

"It's mainly the front of the bike," Nikki waved a hand over the cowl of the damaged bike, "The fork tube and the calliper are completely shattered, your brake lines look like they've been snapped in half, the rotor is shredded...should I go on?"

Johnny groaned and shook his head, "That's okay, I get the picture."

The lady mechanic smirked before she pocketed her notepad and went over to the bike, nudging the kickstand back into place, "This may take a week and a half, two weeks at the most."

Johnny pursed his lips, "Is there anyway you could shorten that time?"

Nikki let out a bark of a laugh, "Ha! If I had some help. I don't know if you know this or not, but my dad used to run this place. Before he...left, we used to have tons of guys who would be more than happy to help with this little problem. Unfortunately, they all bailed after he did. I can't get anyone to help me now because no one takes this garage seriously anymore."

Johnny sort of tuned the woman out, he really didn't care for sob stories. He just wanted to get his bike fixed and go back home, he was tired and starting to get a little cranky. Nikki had begun to push the bike into the shop, seemingly not having any trouble at all. Johnny frowned to himself, looking away before begrudgingly following after her into the garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying my best to actually keep this chapter as mellow as I could. I'm thinking of putting off the action until later on in the story. Though that may prove to be hard, eheh. I've decided that this particular chapter will be shorter since it's going to blend into the next chapter pretty heavily.


End file.
